My Happily Ever After
by PerfectlyPsychotic
Summary: 'I love you. I love you, Dammit Kyle I love you.' He muttered and cried it over and over again. But Kyle wasn't coming back. That was a year and a half ago, he didn't return, everyone had given up hope on his return. Rated T for implied Rape and swearing


Teenage romance were never meant to last, no matter how much the two thing they love each other only 14 percent of high school sweethearts got married, of those only one percent lasted. It's foolish to think love so young could ever last eternally. Especially with 50 percent of all marriages this day and age ending in divorce.

But Stan had a chance, he had the perfect opportunity to confess his love and live happily ever after. It wasn't his fault it was blown, if he could change that moment he'd give anything, just to fix things. He would give up everything he ever had just to get his love back. To make sure that everything was ok, that the love was returned, that Kyle was safe.

-They stood alone on the street, snow falling in sweet little drops and covering the ground in a shelter of frozen rain. The sky may have been dark from the days ending, but that's what made it so perfect. Stan wanted everything to be in place, a setting sun over the horizon was the final puzzle piece. He'd spent the entire day with his best friend, and promised himself to tell Kyle the truth.

They ended the day on an unoccupied sidewalk near Starks Pond, Kyle had smiled all day, and at one point they technically held hands. "Kyle, I'm really happy I got to spend the day with you." This wide grin crossed Stan's face as he spoke. "Dude you sound gay." Kyle was joking of course, especially now that he and Stan were still holding hands.

It began when the raven haired boy noticed the sun dipping behind the mountains in the distance. They were a good way away from Starks Pond, where Stan wanted the day to end. He grabbed Kyle's hand and pulled him along, while in the rush to arrive on time, Kyle's hand clasped around Stan's as well. Even though he couldn't see it, Kyle's cheeks were as fiery as his hair.

When they arrived, their hands hadn't bothered to move way, and they stood together watching as the sun started to drop down. Now here they were, laughing over Kyle's comment, but neither feeling uncomfortable or wanting to move way. When the laughter of the two had began to settle, Stan remembered why he was here, with Kyle, holding his hand, watching the sun set.

For all Stan knew Kyle was straight, and just didn't notice their hands linked and crossed together, but he was going to take the chance. His cheeks flushed at the thought of what he was going to say, and Kyle noticed it. "Uh Kyle, it's just that, you're my best friend, and I tell you everything." He paused a little and shifted his position, he was growing scared and ready to back out, but he felt Kyle squeeze his hand to urge him to keep going.

"It's been a while, and I couldn't keep it in any longer." They ignored the little black car that had driven by them 3 times. "I know we've been through a lot together." He was beating around the bush, trying to avoid directly saying it; he wanted it to be meaningful. The car drove by one more time, but they ignore it, too involved in each other, as the final bits of the sun was nearing disappearance.

"Well you see it's just that…" The little black car turned around down the road, and started speeding back toward the two best friends. "Kyle, I love you, I love you so much." Stan finally blurted out, feeling the blush growing on his cheeks. His best friend gasped, and squeezed his hand again. His eyes lightened and filled with this soft and beautiful expression.

"Stan I-" He was cut off by the sound of heavy breaking tires, the little black car came to a halt in front of them. It startled the pair and they jumped back, still not breaking hand contact. A man jumped from the back right passenger he was tall, strong, brown hair with long side burns, he had a nose that looked like it had been smashed in, and a scar running in a crescent around his cheek and chin.

Another followed behind him, neither of them spoke, but they quickly advanced toward Kyle and Stan. The first man grabbed the Cherry Jew and yanked him toward the car while the second man held Stan back as he fought to hold onto his best friend. "Kyle! No, Kyle." He yelled as he pushed and kicked at the attacker trying so desperately to get back to the red head.

Stan was toned and covered in muscles from years of sports, so he put up quiet a fight. He could feel the fabric of Kyle's jacket under his fingers as he got closer. The first attack angrily turned toward Stan, and jabbed an elbow into his face, sending the raven to the snow in a painful ungraceful fall, that had him crying out in pain.

He lay limp in the snow for several seconds, before mustering his strength and lifting his head. Just in time to hear Kyle screaming his name, while he was shoved into the car, before it sped off. The ordeal lasted 2 minutes, and it was over. Stan's nose was bleeding, but he didn't care, he jumped to his feet and ran after the car, tears streaming from his eyes.

As he ran he screamed Kyle's name, yelling and gasping, doing his best to chase the car, as it out miled him quickly. Soon it was just a little dot on the length of the road, but Stan kept running, till he couldn't even see its dust trail. "KYLE- NO!" the scream could shatter glass as the teenager dropped to his knees in the snow, the tears came in pours like a rain storm, and his chest heaved from lack of air.

Just like that, the love of his life was gone, shoved into a car, and drove away, Stan didn't have a chance to save his best friend with those big guys around. He didn't care though, he wanted Kyle back, he'd die to save him, give his life if Kyle would be safely home, instead of kidnapped by those monsters. He'd give anything to have him back in his arms so he could say it again, 'I love you. I love you, Dammit Kyle I love you.' He muttered and cried it over and over again. But Kyle wasn't coming back.

-That was a year and a half ago, he didn't return, everyone had given up hope on his return. Stan spent every day in utter silence, he didn't speak to anyone else, and when he did it was short and muttered under his breath, if you didn't hear it the first time, you wouldn't hear it again. He became withdrawn from school; he didn't hang out with his other friends, didn't eat that much, he spent every sunset at Starks pond, reliving the moment, every time ending in tears.

When night came he spoke the most, not to others but to himself. The nightmares that plagued him each night, he spoke in his sleep; he yelled and screamed, kicking at his blankets like they were the assailants. He'd wake up only to realize it was a dream, than he'd search around for the photo of Kyle and him he kept on his bedside table, and talk to it like his best friend were really there.

It was late March, almost April, 17 months since the disappearance of Kyle Broflovski. Stan used to sneak into Kyle's room through the window, Ike would leave it unlocked for him, and they would sit together in silence. Sometimes Ike would talk, but the black haired teen never responded. He couldn't do it anymore; he couldn't sit in silence while the Kyle's room gathered dust.

He stopped going, stopped leaving his house, and rarely ever left his room. His parents understood, they worked around their growing depressed son, left meals outside his room, did laundry for him while he was at school, they understood if he didn't go some days. He'd wake up and knew he couldn't take it, so he'd just lie in bed, trying to hold back tears.

The days kept passing, Stan was getting better, but he would never be ok. He started leaving his room for meals, stopped skipping so many days. Still he never spoke, and the nightmares didn't cease, didn't smile, but didn't reject human contact. He didn't mind if other people spoke to him, or tried to comfort him, but he'd never forget his silence, never forget why.

His parents were visiting Shelly in college, they left him home for 3 days; they did the shopping, left him with plenty of food, emergency numbers, and money for Pizza. He managed his own laundry, and kept everything clean. Most days instead of locked away in his room, he lay on the couch stared at the ceiling, and day dreamed about his memories of Kyle.

All of his friends new he'd been home alone for a few days, so when the doorbell rang he expected it to be Kenny or Butters, maybe even Cartman. He trudged toward the door, shuffling his feet the entire way. He didn't want anyone to see him, he loved solitude, loved the feeling of being alone so no one could extend false sympathy.

Of course everyone missed Kyle, wished he was still alive, but they'd moved on with life, they'd gotten past it, Stan never did. People pitied him for that, everyday he had someone knew telling him how they knew Kyle would be home some day. He hated that everyone was trying to make him feel better, but deep down he knew they were all annoyed with his depression.

More than once they'd arrive at his house, with the intensions of taking him out and making him feel better. They left in a frustrated huff about how they couldn't even get him past his bedroom door frame. He didn't want to go out and drink, he didn't want to have music blasting in his ear, or smoke being blown into his nostrils.

Slowly he swung the door open, fully prepared to send the intruder away. His jaw dropped at what he saw. The mixture of colors stung tears in his eyes. He could see the Red, the blue and purple spotted with black and green, white and dark navy, everything layered over with a sickly grey. The visitor looked like a preschooler's finger painting. Kyle.

His red hair was mangled and wild, grown out and knotted from a year and a half of improper treatment. His skin was the dark ill grey, with blue and purple bruises on his face, and black and green ones on his arms, his white shirt was tattered and torn, who knows where his hat and jacket were. His dark navy jeans were an emo kids dream with all the tears and rips. There were cuts on his face, and he was shivering uncontrollably, but he was here.

Stan stared wide eyed at the person who he hadn't seen in so long, the way he looked made Stan sick to his stomach, beaten bloody and bruised, but he was still beautiful. "Stan." Without another moment of hesitation the newly found Jew carelessly tossed his arms around Stan's neck and hugged his like his life depended on it. It took a few seconds but Stan hugged him back.

"Kyle?" He whispered it out like he didn't believe it, but his proof stood hooked to his neck. It was his first word in almost a two years, how fitting that it be Kyle. "Stan, I was so scared, I never thought I'd see you again." His voice was low and cracked, he had probably been silent a long time too. They broke away so they could look at each other.

They were tearing up, but the first smile to appear on Stan's face in 17 months broke free. Soon after Kyle grinned too, sliding his hand down and taking Stan's hand in his own. Despite the bruises on his arms and face, he moved and talked like they didn't exist. Stan led his missing best friend to the bathroom, turning the water to a medium hot, and laying out a fresh towel on the rack.

Stan didn't leave the bathroom, he sat on the counter next to the sink, and Kyle was silent as he showered. As soon as the water turned off Stan was up, he jumped off the counter and had the towel ready in hand. He wrapped the towel around his waist, exposing to Stan all the bruises, cuts and scars that had been early covered by the tattered shirt.

Again, Stan's eye fluttered with tears. What had they done to his beautiful Kyle, had they done anything beside just abuse him? He lead the Jewish boy back to his room, and gave him clothes than turned away so he could change. "Kyle, what did they do to you?" Stan's voice was cracking and tears were spilling down his cheek and off his chin, onto the bed where he was now sitting.

Gently Kyle pulled the shirt over his head, he moved slowly to avoid stressing any injuries. "What didn't they do?" He replied with a low disgusted scoff. When he finished dressing, he sat on the edge of the bed, and lay down, placing his head in Stan's lap. "They hit me, and screamed at me, they- they." He cut of their, unable to continue.

Stan didn't pressure him, instead he reached over and stroked his best friends cheek gently, careful to avoid cuts and bruises. Kyle reached over, and took Stan's hand in his, holding it tight and squeezing it with what strength he had left. "They used me, almost every day, they'd come to the room I was locked up in, and force me to do whatever they wanted."

The tears started filling up his eyes, and then rolled sideways down his face, the raven haired boy could feel tears in his eyes, and anger in his heart. They used his Kyle, raped his everyday for a year and a half. "When they did it, they told me I was worthless, that I was just a piece of shit." His voice got quiet in an instant. "That no one would ever love me."

There was a pause, "But I didn't believe them! Because I remember you told me you loved me, and I remember how you chased after the car. I knew. I knew it was true, you had to love me." He was crying harshly now, and squeezing Stan's hand with all his might.

"I still do, I still love you, and I always will!" With that he scooped the abused boy in his arms gently, careful of his bruises.

"I-I never got to tell you that I loved you too. I thought about it every day, I'd get home, and I'd tell you. So we could be happy." His voice was barely above a whisper, and he stayed cradled in Stan's arms, his ear pressed to his chest so he could hear his heart beating. They stayed like that for an hour, crying and talking about how Kyle got away.

Stan didn't let go of him until he was completely done with the story, and he could hear Kyle's stomach growling. He pulled his found best friend to his feet and urged him to the door. "You should eat, I'll make you something, and we can call the police." He offered as he wiped away the tears from his best friend's eyes.

The cherry haired boy complied, and followed after him, taking his hand in his own. "I love you too Stan."

"I love you too Kyle." He turned and gently placed a kiss on his forehead, void of any bruises. They'd have a long struggle, but Stan was going to get his happily ever after, even if he had to kill for it.


End file.
